Waking the Witch

twenty-four

Next stop: Paula Thompson, for a little chat about her dead daughter’s paternity. I’d barely gone a block when my cell phone rang.

“Ms. Levine?”

I recognized the woman’s voice, but definitely not the meek tone.

“It’s Tiffany Radu,” she said.

“Yes?”

“I—” A deep breath sighed through the line. “I need to speak to you. Can—can we meet?”

“Sure, how about the diner—”

“No. I mean in private. I heard about Detective Kennedy and ... oh, God.” A broken sob. “Please, can we meet in private, before I change my mind?”

“Okay. My motel—”

A shaky laugh. “The last thing I need is to be seen sneaking into a seedy motel room. There’s an empty building downtown that my husband’s company owns. Can I meet you there?”

“Sure. My partner should be back any minute. I’ll get him to drive me—

“It’s within walking distance, if you’re near the diner. And I’d really, really rather you didn’t tell anyone you’re meeting with me. I don’t want Cody to find out.”

“Understandable. What’s the address?”

DAMN, TIFFANY WAS quite the little actress. A bit high school, with all the sighs and sobs, but still pretty damn good.

Yes, I knew it was an act. Come on. The bitch goes from clawing me to begging for help? Sure, something traumatic might have happened. But wanting to meet in an empty building? And not tell anyone? That was a tip-off only a moron would miss.

I picked up my pace.

AS I WALKED, I got another call. “Ship of Fools,” meaning it was someone in my secondary address book—the hidden one for contacts Paige and Lucas wouldn’t want to know about.

“Druid,” Molly announced when I answered.

“What?”

She sighed, and said, more slowly. “Druid. That ritual you sent. A pewter ingot in the hand is part of very ancient druidic sacrificial rituals. My source tells me they fell out of use centuries ago.”

“You said rituals. Multiple ones then?”

“Right. My source can’t narrow it down. You’re looking for a druid, though, one who still practices human sacrifice.”

“Nasty habit.”

She made a noise that could be taken as agreement, but almost certainly wasn’t. Molly had likely sacrificed people in protection rituals for her daughters.

I thanked her, hung up, and started hitting speed dial to call Adam and ask him to renew the search, narrowing it down to druidic rituals—

I stopped. I stood there, finger poised over the screen for at least a minute. Then I pocketed the phone and kept walking.

THE ADDRESS TIFFANY had given me led to the town’s abandoned newspaper building, three blocks from Main Street. It was ugly—shit brown and squat with tiny windows, as if the reporters knew nothing newsworthy would be happening outside and didn’t want to depress themselves by looking.

I tried the front door. Locked. I hit the buzzer, but didn’t hear anything. Disconnected, I guessed. I knocked. No answer.

I walked around the side. A door opened and a slender hand gestured frantically.

“I said to be careful,” Tiffany hissed as she pulled me inside. “That means not using the front door.”

“There’s no one around,” I said. “And even if there was, they just saw me trying to get into an empty building. Typical PI work.”

“Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”

“No.”

“Good.”

The electricity must have been completely disconnected, because the only light filtered in through tiny windows.

“Go left,” she said. “Then we’ll head downstairs to the presses.”

“Who’s going to hear us up here?”

“There’s something down there I want to show you.”

Yeah, right. I only nodded, though, and played along. At the top of the stairs, I paused.

“It’s awfully dark down there,” I said. “Did you bring a flashlight?”

“There’s a lantern down there.”

“Huh.” I peered into the darkness as I teetered on the top of the steps. Behind me, she cast a binding spell under her breath. Exactly what I expected.

“I can barely see—” I began, then wheeled and hit her with a knockback spell. Or I tried. It failed and as I launched another, she finished hers and I froze in place. I mentally struggled to get free, but the spell held and all I could do was stand there as she ran at me, hands out, and gave me a tremendous shove.

I toppled like a statue, hitting the stairs hard. Pain screamed through me, jolting me out of the spell, and my arms flew out to brace myself before I hit the concrete floor headfirst. I staggered up and wheeled. Tiffany stood at the top of the stairs, casting aloud now, trying to lock me in another binding spell.

I leaped aside and cast an energy bolt. It went off course and hit the wall beside her head with barely a pop.

I raced into the dark basement. I’m sure my battered body complained, but I didn’t feel it. All I could think was: Two failed spells in a row? No way. No fucking way.

I squelched a bubble of panic. The second had screwed up, not failed. My fault for jumping aside when I should have been concentrating.

I raced into a dark corner, cast a cover spell, and felt the mental click of a successful cast. As for whether I was hidden, that remained to be seen. Hence the really dark corner.

Tiffany’s cautious steps sounded on the stairs. I forced myself to relax and focus. Stick to simple spells for now. Defensive magic.

At the bottom of the steps, Tiffany created a light ball, sending it into every corner, including the one I was in. The cover spell worked fine.

When she turned her back on me, I hit her with a knockback that slammed her into the wall. That was more like it.

As I advanced on her, she flipped over and started her binding spell again. I smacked her down with another knockback.

“Your choice of spells leaves a lot to be desired,” I said. “In a pinch, skip the binding and go for the knockback. Efficient, effective, fast launching ... But I’m going to guess you don’t know sorcerer magic.”

She sat up and her hands shot down. An energy bolt sizzled past me as I stepped aside. It hit the wall with a faint pop, leaving a charred circle the size of a dime.

“Huh, I stand corrected. But that’s really more of a party trick. What you need is one of these.” I slammed a high-voltage energy bolt into the wall inches from her head. It left a hole the size of my fist.

Still sitting, she started to cast a binding spell. I smacked her with a smaller energy bolt, making her jump.

“You really are a one-trick pony, aren’t you?” I said. “Well, two, I guess, if you include that pathetic energy bolt.” I leaned down and whispered. “It’s really kind of embarrassing.”

She lunged. I grabbed her by the front of her shirt and threw her into an ancient printing press.

“Not expecting that?” I said. “Lesson two. Learn some self-defense tricks as well as spellcasting.”

Tiffany rose and touched the back of her shoulder. Her fingers came away bloody.

“You bitch,” she whispered.

She launched an energy bolt. I darted to the side, but not fast enough. It caught me in the elbow, jolting me enough to make me bite my tongue. Rage rushed through me. My hands flew up. The energy bolt hit her in the shoulder and scorched through her blouse. She screamed, and I smelled burning flesh.

When her hands rose again, I hit her with a spell Paige and Lucas hadn’t taught me, one they didn’t know. It pinned her to the wall, her guts on fire, her face contorting in agony.

As I held her there, blood roared in my ears. Seeing her writhing, hearing her mewling ... I amped it up, just a notch, watching her face, seeing and feeling her terror and—

“Enough, Savannah.” Paige’s voice, deep in my head. “You have her. You won. That’s enough.”

The rush evaporated and when I looked at Tiffany again, I saw her terror and panic. I released the spell.

“Now you know what I can do,” I said as I stepped toward her. “If you cast any more spells you’ll get another taste of that one. Got it?”

“Bitch,” she said.

“You keep calling me that. I have a name, you know, though it seems you don’t know exactly who I am, so let’s try a proper introduction. I’m Savannah—”

“I know who you are.” Her lips twisted as she got to her feet. “Daughter of Eve Levine and Kristof Nast. Foster daughter of Paige Winterbourne and Lucas Cortez. The golden girl of the supernatural world. Under the protection of two Cabals and the interracial council.”

“Actually, one Cabal. Thomas Nast refuses to recognize me. That’ll change when my brother takes over, but in the meantime, I’ve got the werewolf Pack. For protection, I’ll take them over the Nasts any day.”

“I suppose you think that makes you special.”

“Uh, yeah....”

“Well, it doesn’t. It makes you privileged. You get your spell power from your parents and your political power from your connections. Take that away, and you’re just a smart-ass little girl who thinks she’s all grown up. Thinks she can sail into town, intimidate me, stalk me—”

“Stalk you ? You’re the one who keeps coming after me.”

“Bullshit. Did you think I wouldn’t notice I was being followed? Wouldn’t cast perimeter spells and know you’re lurking around my house?”

“I don’t know what meds you’re on, but they’re powerful stuff. I’ve never even been near your house. If you saw me there—”

“I didn’t need to see you. Someone starts following me and, two days later, Savannah Levine pops up, supposedly investigating the murder of humans. Bullshit. You came here for me. Then you found out we’d had some murders and decided it’d be easier to play private eye.

Twice now I’d felt someone watching me, who disappeared when I got close. Two witches in town, both being followed by a mystery stalker. Hmm.

“It wasn’t me,” I said.

“Like hell. You’re investigating me, on behalf of the council.”

“How do you know I’m not investigating Cody?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Since when does the council bother with humans?”

Damn. After Molly’s call, I’d really been hoping Cody was a druid. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? But what exactly did Tiffany think I was investigating her for? Let’s give her a shake and see what came loose.

“You’re in a lot of trouble, Tiffany,” I said. “You thought you could just hide out here in Nowhere-ville, but the council has caught up with you.”

She crossed her arms. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“No? Let’s start with the minor offenses, like sharing your rituals with your human husband. I saw Tommy’s Facebook album. If you were going to tell Cody what you are—which isn’t advisable, but not a crime—then you should have told him to be more discreet. That’s an exposure threat, which attracts the interest of both the council and the Cabals.”

“I didn’t—” She sucked in breath, rethinking the denial. “It was back when we were dating. He walked in on me doing a healing ritual. I had a big exam and felt a cold coming on. I told him I was Wiccan. That’s what he thinks. He wanted me to show him some magic for his frat party, and I made up a ritual. If you take a good look at Tommy’s photos, you’ll see it’s fake.”

“Maybe. But that’s just the first of your offenses, isn’t it?”

She brushed dust off her slacks. Buying time.

“I’m allowed to use my powers to benefit my family,” she said, chin lifting. “As long as I’m careful, I can do that.”

“Sure. You can entertain the baby with a light show. You can mix healing teas for your kids. You can set perimeter spells. Hell, if the neighbor’s brat was picking on yours, you could wallop him with a knockback ... if you knew the spell. But that’s not what we’re talking about, is it?”

“Don’t you have better things to do? Bigger crimes to punish?”

“Nope. But I will give you a chance to defend yourself.” I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes. Starting now.”

“Go to hell.”

I leaned against the wall. “I’m not a crusader, Tiffany. I might help Paige and the council, but I can be reasonable. Them? Not so much. So just tell—”

She spat at me. Missed. That didn’t save her from an energy bolt that had her eyes rolling back in her head as she hit the floor, flopping like a beached salmon. I stood over her.

“You want to try again?” I said.

“I have the right to protect—”

“Is someone actually threatening your family?”

“Besides you?”

“I’m only a threat if you or Cody had something to do with those murders. Otherwise, I don’t give a shit. Is anyone else threatening them?”

“What the hell do you know about families? You’re a spoiled brat who’s never had to worry about anyone but herself. If you had children, you’d understand that protecting them is about more than just fighting someone like you.”

“In other words, no. What you mean is that you’re using your powers to make money. Because, otherwise, your kids might not get the fancy sneakers they want.” I leaned over her. “You have no fucking idea what it’s like to need to put food on the table. You’re talking about lifestyle, not survival.”

“My children need—”

“Look around you, Tiffany, and you’ll see children who need. Like Kayla Thompson—”

“That whore’s daughter?” Tiffany’s lip curled.

I hit her with the internal fireball spell again and she screamed. I let her scream, writhing on the floor, and this time I didn’t hear Paige’s voice. I waited until she curled up in a ball, gasping. Then I launched it again, this time in her throat. Her eyes rolled, but she could only gag, smoke puffing with each breath. Again, I waited until the fire went out and she lay there, moaning.

“You’re going to have a sore throat for a few days,” I said. “But if you say one more word against Kayla or Paula Thompson, it’ll be the last word you ever say. Understood?”

She glared up at me.

“As for the rest, I’ll give you a few hours to think about it. Then I’m knocking on your door and you’re either talking to me or—”

“Or you’re hauling me in front of the council,” she croaked.

“If I’m in a good mood. But right now, Tiffany, I’m not in a good mood. You’ve got until three o’clock,” I said and walked away.